


Got my high heels on

by Kaiyou



Series: The Sweetest Thing (Just Desserts Verse) [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Fingering, Homophobia, M/M, Polyamory, Powerplay, Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, akaashi-centric, akakuro moments, bokuaka moments, nightclub scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: While they're all on vacation in Paris, Akaashi gets a call from his parents that does not go over well. Upset, all he wants to do is find a way to stop thinking, stop the part of his brain that whispers that what they say is true. Fortunately, his lovers are more than welcome to do whatever they can to remind him how precious he is to them, in every way.





	1. Phonecall

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is set in Just Desserts verse, but it's about four years in the future. You don't really need to know that story for this though :) only if you want to know some of the things referenced.

Akaashi’s hand shook as he carefully placed the telephone headset down into its cradle. He was thankful that the others were out in the main room of their suite. Even though they understood the situation with his parents perfectly well he still hated to let them see him like this.

Some days, he wasn’t sure why he even tried to maintain ties to his parents. On more than one occasion his father had made it more than clear what he thought of Akaashi’s lifestyle. Evidently, he was living in a cesspool of filth and perversion and had shamed his family name forever. It was almost enough to make Akaashi want to renounce his name. 

Kuroo’s family would probably adopt him like Bokuto’s had done for Kenma.

Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t an option. 

It was harder on days like this, though.

The door opened, and Kuroo poked his head in. “Everything alright?” he asked, though Akaashi knew his boyfriend probably realized things were less than alright the moment he laid eyes on him.

Akaashi just shook his head, fingers curling around each other as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Kuroo was quiet as he came in and sat down next to him, hand reaching out and carefully pressing lines down Akaashi’s back. He knew Akaashi’s moods. Knew, thankfully, that Akaashi couldn’t stand too much touch when he was agitated like this, but also knew that some contact was a reassurance. 

“Evidently,” Akaashi finally said, “my cousin Aiko ran off with some host. Stole money from her parents and disappeared with the guy, no one knows where.”

Sucking in a breath, Kuroo said, “I’m sorry. I hope she’s alright.”

“Me too,” Akaashi replied. He liked his cousin. She was young, and a little wild, but she’d never judged him. She even knew the full truth of his situation - that Kuroo wasn’t his only boyfriend, that Bokuto and Kenma were also their lovers and not just their roommates. That Kosuke was their son, even if Bokuto was his legal father. She’d never judged him, and he hadn’t judged her, other than some careful advice about lifestyle choices when he thought what she was doing was bringing her harm. 

Others in his family were not so kind. “Evidently my aunt called my mother up in the middle of the night, screaming about how it was all her fault. That if she hadn’t raised her son to be such a degenerate, this never would have happened, because obviously, I’m a bad influence on Aiko. Railed about how she should’ve cut ties with the entire side of the family once she found out I was gay and liked to act like a woman, how her poor innocent daughter was led astray by spending time in my company.”

“What the hell, man,” Kuroo whispered.

Akaashi shrugged. He knew it was bullshit, of course, but a part of him still ached for his mother. No matter what she’d said or done over the years she was still important to him. He was aware enough of the dynamics in his extended family to know how strained her relationship had become with her sister after he’d come out. He’d done nothing wrong by being honest about who he was, but he still felt a nagging sense of responsibility.

He also knew enough to understand that a large part of his father’s anger was protectiveness towards his wife that was expressed as rage at the only available target - Akaashi.

Knowing didn’t make it any better, though.

“I should’ve never taken the call,” he murmured. “We’re supposed to be on a romantic vacation in the most romantic city on earth, and instead I’m dealing with family drama.”

The trip was a present from Bokuto and Kuroo to Kenma and Akaashi - given on Kenma’s birthday, but timed so that they would be in Paris on Akaashi’s. Kosuke was back home, being taken care of by Hinata and Oikawa. Kenma had spent the last three years being the major caregiver for their son, and everyone knew he needed a break. Akaashi had been skeptical that Paris would do the trick, but it had been rather amazing to watch how their reserved boyfriend had relaxed when surrounded by foreigners.

It was the anonymity, he’d said. No one was judging him - he was just another Asian tourist. Even if they were, he couldn’t understand a thing they said.

“It’s been such a good vacation so far,” Akaashi said.

“I know,” Kuroo said, carefully sliding over so that he could use both hands to rub Akaashi’s back. The hands felt good. Kuroo’s hands always felt good. He was gentle, and caring, and was skilled at reading exactly what Akaashi needed.

Today he just couldn’t calm down, though. Worry about Aiko coursed through him, coupled with anger at both her parents and his. It was all tied in with the feelings of guilt and self-loathing that continued to plague him even though he knew better. It made his skin itchy, made him want to yell and scream and do things he’d never do in order to renounce all the repressive crap he’d lived with for so long. 

Pushing up from the bed he stalked over to the dresser, fingers ghosting over the cosmetics he’d laid out when they first arrived. “I want to go dancing,” he said, trying to ignore the pang of guilt he had from rejecting Kuroo’s touch.

“Hmm,” Kuroo said.

Glancing back, Akaashi saw that he had lounged back on the bed, gaze appraising. Appraising his ass, if Akaashi guessed correctly. It made him laugh, eased the guilt and reminded him of himself. It reminded him for the millionth time of why he loved Kuroo.

Raising his eyes to Akaashi’s Kuroo said, “Ballroom dancing?”

Akaashi thought about it briefly. It was his favorite, most days, he knew. Every time they went out it reminded him of that fateful meeting where Kuroo had first seen him in a dress, of how Kuroo had fully accepted him for who he was. Tonight, though, he had something else in mind.

“No. Something... different. I’m sure Semi will have a suggestion.”

Kuroo nodded, gaze drifting back down Akaashi’s body. It always bemused him a bit how much appreciation his lovers had for his physique. Some days it was annoying. Those days he spent with Kenma though, or off by himself. Today, it was almost affirming.

“Want to invite the other two?” Kuroo asked, pushing up from the bed and walking toward the door.

“We can.”

He followed Kuroo out into the main room. Bokuto was dozing against the arm of the couch, Kenma curled up in a ball next to him and playing a game. Akaashi loved the rush of emotions that came at the sight of them. Peace, love, amusement, warmth. A bit of minor jealousy at the ease of their connection, but that was alleviated when he slid onto the couch and placed a hand on Kenma’s knee.

His golden eyes flicked up from the screen and studied Akaashi. There was a moment of consideration, then Kenma was uncurling himself and moving to lean against Akaashi, allowing himself to be pulled into his lap. Akaashi allowed himself to indulge in the hug, inhaling the soft warm scent that was purely Kenma. It grounded him.

Kuroo slipped onto the couch next to them, hand reaching out to rub Akaashi’s leg through his jeans. Akaashi knew that if Bokuto woke up he would push to cuddle. This was almost better, right now, this quiet press of bodies reminding him he was loved and accepted. 

Kenma had gone back to his game. “Problems?” he asked.

“Family drama,” Akaashi answered, nuzzling his golden-black hair. He felt his boyfriend nod, thankful as always that Kenma wasn’t one to press. He was always willing to listen, though.

Later.

Later when Akaashi’s mind wasn’t crowded with all the streams of competing thought that made him want to just stop thinking.

“Kuroo and I are going out dancing,” Akaashi murmured. 

He could see a dull reflection of Kenma’s face in the game screen and had to smile at the other man’s scrunched nose. Ballroom dancing was not his favorite. Clubbing was not his favorite. The only types of dancing Kenma liked were either slow-dancing with his boyfriends or the silly little shuffle he did while Kosuke stood on his feet and held his hands.

Occasionally, very occasionally, Kenma would agree to go out to a club with them. That was more when their friends came along and he could sit safely at the table with Shirabu, watching the drinks while everyone else took over the dancefloor. Here, things wouldn’t be the same.

That was fine. 

“Should we wake Bokuto?” Akaashi asked, sliding his fingers up over Kenma’s arm to trace the back of his hands as he tried to play. That brought a smile, then a small frown as Kenma’s character died onscreen. 

Kenma paused his play long enough to give thought to Akaashi’s question. “What kind of dancing?”

“Club,” Akaashi replied. “I need to ...”

He didn’t really have words for what he needed to do. Feel. Get drunk on the music. Lose himself, lose his inhibitions, scream his presence into the world even if he wouldn’t raise his voice. 

The lack of words made Kenma shift, turning to look into his face and raising a hand to trace his cheek. The sure knowledge in Kenma’s eyes made Akaashi’s heart rate pick up. He didn’t know what Kenma saw, but he knew it was everything, and that excited him.

“I’ll keep Bokuto entertained here. Come back before it’s too late,” Kenma said, glancing at Kuroo before saying, “Once.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, mind spinning off into unexpected directions at the words. For a moment he thought about being annoyed. He wasn’t though, not really. He was in love, and Kenma knew it, eyes crinkling at the corners as he recognized Akaashi’s reaction to his words. There were promises in those golden eyes. Promises and plans.

Wondering how they’d be kept was just the distraction Akaashi needed.


	2. Dressin Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically BokuAka, with some smut :)

Bokuto ended up waking before they left, of course, whining a bit when he found out that Kenma had decided that neither of them was going. Kuroo just laughed at him and whispered something that made Bokuto blush. Akaashi hadn’t needed to hear the details to have some idea of what they’d discussed.

Kenma had that effect sometimes.

Still, Bokuto was mopey enough that Akaashi let him stay in the bedroom as he got ready for the club.

“Black or green?” Akaashi asked, holding the two dresses up himself in the mirror. The lack of an answer had him glancing back, brow furrowing. “Bokuto-san, please do not unfold every piece of underwear I own.”

“Ah! Sorry Akaaashi! They’re just all so pretty.”

“Yes, I am aware. However, right now I need your opinion on my dress, not my panties.”

That word always got a reaction out of Bokuto. It was amusing. The way Bokuto’s thumb and forefingers kept rubbing the front panel of the silk in his hand was causing a slightly different reaction, though, especially since Akaashi knew his cock had been pressed against that silk in the past.

It would be again soon, he decided.

“Black, I think,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi pondered looked back at the mirror. The black dress slinky and soft in his hands, skirt a straight wraparound with a tantalizing gap that would expose his right thigh. The top was made of two thick pieces of fabric that wrapped over each other, narrowing into straps that hugged the corners of his shoulders while leaving a small triangular window bare over his belly button. Just the thought of Kuroo’s fingers sliding into the window to press against his stomach made him shiver, and he nodded, hanging up the green dress and padding over to Bokuto and the bed. “Works for me.”

Smiling up at him, Bokuto shoved most of the underwear to the side and patted the bed. “You should let me dress you!”

“Undress me?”

“Well, yes, that too,” Bokuto said, gold eyes shining with mischief.

Akaashi had told him all about Aiko when they came back to the room before he’d started looking through clothes. Bokuto had, predictably, been worried for her - he’d watched her grow up after all, even longer than Kuroo and Kenma. But he’d also reassured Akaashi that whatever happened they would do what they could to support her.

Love was something that flowed out of Bokuto in spades. He still had mood swings, of course - that was just something central to his character and his process - but his self-confidence and self-assurance had only grown over the years the four of them had been together. It meant he felt even more free to share his joy with others.

It was something Akaashi needed, especially on days like today when all the old demons tried to claw their way up into his mind. He’d been forgiven and forgiven himself a thousand times for the mistakes he’d made in his past, but there was a part of him that still tried to insist that he didn’t deserve to be here with them. Voices that tried to convince him that his family was right, that the world was right, that he was wrong and diseased and toxic to those around him.

Bokuto’s eyes narrowed and he reached up, tugging Akaashi down. “Akaaashi,” he chided, rolling to hover over him, a frown on his face.

A soft laugh escaped Akaashi’s lips. “I’m fine, Bokuto-san,” he murmured.

He could tell by the way Bokuto’s expression turned serious he didn’t quite accept that answer.

“You’re more than fine, Keiji,” Bokuto said, fingers tracing his face with a tenderness that always made Akaashi’s heart clinch.

He’d wanted this for years before he got it. Hated sometimes how much he wanted to be cradled in Bokuto’s arms, to be loved by this overwhelming mess of a man who adored him so openly. The kiss Bokuto pressed against his lips was like a thousand others he’d dreamed about as a teenager, alone in his bed.

Real Bokuto kisses were better, though.

Real Bokuto kisses could leave him breathless.

Bokuto sucked that breath out of him, large hand resting on Akaashi’s chest as he slid to the side, nipping his lower lip before pulling back. “You’re precious to us, Akaashi,” he murmured. “You’re gonna feel it tonight.”

That made him shiver in anticipation.

“I suppose you’d better get me dressed then if you’re going to,” Akaashi teased, lifting his hands above his head and arching his back.

Bokuto’s eyes widened, appreciation plain on his face in a way that never failed to help soothe some of Akaashi’s inner worries. Large hands slid to push Akaashi’s shirt up, tugging it over his head and throwing it to the side. Pants and underwear were taken care of in short order as well. Bokuto didn’t mess around when it came to undressing any of them.

He liked the view too much when he was finished.

“Ah, Akaashi,” Bokuto sighed. “We’re going to treat you so nice tonight. You could just stay in tonight if you wanted?”

Akaashi laughed. “But then you wouldn’t get to have your way with Kenma for a few hours while we’re gone,” he teased.

“Ah,” Bokuto said, cheeks coloring slightly. “Well, that is -”

Lips pursing in amusement, Akaashi said, “Or am I wrong? Is your husband going to have his wicked way with you?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto protested, a goofy grin sliding onto his face as he thought of Kenma.

Echoes of old jealousies slipped through his mind, sliding away like water. Even with the four of them together they each shared a permutation of love that was unique, and what Bokuto and Kenma shared was special and solely between them. It made Akaashi ache a bit to see his first and second loves so deeply in love with each other, to know that it was his action that drove them into the position that allowed that love to flourish. His mistake. His cowardice.

It had turned out well in the end, though.

And he knew Bokuto was as in love with him as he was with Kenma, and Kenma loved Akaashi with a fierceness that never ceased to amaze him. And Kuroo - ah. The love he and Kuroo shared had its own secret language as well, expressed in a million ways untranslatable to anyone but the two of them. All of these love languages tangled up and intersecting each other in a way that filled Akaashi’s heart to overflowing.

“There’s a real smile,” Bokuto said, grinning widely.

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied, amused but also momentarily at peace.

Bokuto sighed happily, letting his head rest on Akaashi’s chest, fingers curling and uncurling around his side. It was comfortable. Akaashi let his arms curl loosely around his lover, one hand straying to pull at the mess of his hair. These were their moments. One of these days he would have to steal Kenma’s husband away for a few hours with just the two of them. Maybe go to the Musée des Arts Forains, enjoy the carnival artifacts. Maybe dress up and enjoy a fancy Parisian meal just the two of them. Maybe come back and spend hours with just the two of them, letting those thick fingers work him open, ride Bokuto with high heels and stockings still on.

Stockings.

“I think the stockings with just the simple banded top tonight,” he murmured, imagining his outfit in his head. The underwear Bokuto had chosen was relatively simple as well, wouldn’t hurt the line of the dress at all. He had some strappy Saint Laurent sandals that would give him an inch or two on Kuroo - perfect height for dancing in his opinion. Maybe a simple black choker and black diamond earrings; he did love it when Kuroo tugged on earrings with his teeth when they made out.

Bokuto nodded against his chest. “Want me to prep you?” he asked, hand sliding down to curl around Akaashi’s thigh.

The thought made Akaashi’s mind freeze a moment as he thought about Bokuto rolling him over and pushing him up and open, using those thick fingers to tease at his entrance, get him wet and ready for whatever happened at the club.

Once, Kenma had said. Akaashi wasn’t altogether sure of what once meant today, but he knew Kuroo was probably getting further instructions. “What do you think Kenma would want?” he asked. “He’s playing mastermind today.”

Everyone was letting him, of course. Normally Kenma and Akaashi put up at least a front of some sort of contest to see who would take control, but not today.

Not when Akaashi relished the thought of being completely taken care of by his lovers, not when he knew how well Kenma would orchestrate everything.

“Hmm,” Bokuto said, lifting up and peering down into Akaashi’s eyes. “I think he wouldn’t let you cum.”

Akaashi bit his lip as Bokuto’s gaze drifted down to his cock. His normally energetic boyfriend went still, all of his attention on Akaashi’s naked body. It reminded him of those few moments on the court when Bokuto would go completely silent in the air, brilliant mind calculating the exact way to slam the ball down past an opposing team’s defenses. Now, though, it was all of Akaashi’s defenses that were being torn down, and he didn’t mind one bit, even if it was a bit embarrassing when his cock started to swell in response.

“Turn over, Akaashi. Get on your knees.”

Heartbeat speeding up Akaashi rolled, closing his eyes as he felt Bokuto shift to grab the lube in the drawer. This, he needed this. He had no clue if Kenma would tell Kuroo to fuck him in public at the club, but he might. The thought of sex pressed up against a brick alley wall had blood rushing south even faster. That, or something in the bathroom, or dancing in a corner with Kuroo’s hand sliding up his skirt and into his underwear, making him want to cum right there on the dance floor and get his dress all dirty - fuck.

Bokuto knelt behind him, tsking in fake disapproval. “Akaashi,” he murmured, hand sliding over his ass, “if you get hard it’s gonna be a problem getting your underwear on. You wouldn’t want to stain your dress, would you?”

There was no way Akaashi could respond to that.

The dress would get stained, and dirty. Sweaty. Covered in all the smells of the club and the Paris night, smudged with makeup, possibly splashed with alcohol. He would get dirty, wicked, filthy in Kuroo’s arms. He craved it. Craved all of it.

Huffing in amusement Bokuto used one hand to spread his cheeks open, pressing gently against his hole with one fingertip. “You open so easily to me,” he murmured. “Beautiful, beautiful Akaashi. I wonder if I’ll get to fuck you tonight? Maybe I’ll fuck your throat instead, cum all over your face, watch your mascara smear. You’re gonna be so wrecked by the end of this.”

A noise escaped Akaashi’s lips. He wanted it, wanted every single thing Bokuto mentioned, reveled in the memories of all the times they’d done things before. It was always just a little hard to give himself permission to let go. His lovers knew this. It was, he supposed, why both Bokuto and Kenma weren’t really asking permission tonight. Kuroo would be different, of course - Kuroo seduced, let Akaashi fall into pleasure.

Bokuto, on the other hand - today, Bokuto was taking. He pulled his finger back, and Akaashi heard the click of the cap. Then the finger was back, wet and slick, pressing deep inside without giving him any time to adjust - not that he needed it. He’d done this countless times, and Bokuto knew exactly what he liked. Knew his body. Knew enough that the enthusiasm in his movements just turned Akaashi on more, made him feel that delicious helplessness that did nothing to help his hardon, especially when another finger joined the first and Bokuto started to rub around deep inside. Sweet, it was so sweet, sweet and frustrating because he knew he wouldn’t be getting relief anytime soon.

“Do you want a plug?” Bokuto murmured, pulling back enough to add a third finger, scissoring a moment before pumping his fingers in and out, mercilessly striking his prostate every time.

He tried to think. Tried to focus. He wanted, did he want - fuck, he wanted Bokuto to fuck him, wanted his cock and not just his fingers -

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto whined, pressing his fingers in deep and rubbing in a way that made Akaashi see stars, “you’re not answering me.”

Fuck, when did Bokuto get so fucking sadistic. Kenma was a horrible influence.

Finally, he took pity on Akaashi long enough to pull his fingers out to the rim, twisting them around in the most delicious way. It let Akaashi catch his breath long enough to think through the original question. Did he want a plug?

“I don’t,” he murmured.

Bokuto chuckled, pulling his fingers out and patting Akaashi’s ass. “Fine, fine,” he murmured. “Just means we’ll have to open you up again later, though.”

“Fine,” Akaashi said, sighing as Bokuto gently eased him to lie down on the bed, hands sliding up over his back. The movement didn’t kill his arousal but did ease it somewhat, though he craved more friction on his cock. Bokuto made disapproving noises every time he tried to move, though. Fine. He had self-control. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He could do this.

He wondered what Kenma would say if he knew how Bokuto had worked him up. Knowing the blond, he’d probably find some reason to get onto his husband. Mainly because there were times when they all looked for the flimsiest of reasons to tease each other. It helped take the edge off those moments when they really did get annoyed at something one of the others had done. They were all human, after all - none of them were perfect.

Akaashi wouldn’t really want perfection. He was happy with the people he had. Even if that meant him trying not to writhe against the bedspread, willing his erection to go down.

“Alright, turn over again, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured. “If we don’t get you dressed soon, Kuroo will start to wonder, and it’s bad luck to see your date before they’re ready right?”

Chuckling, Akaashi said, “We aren’t getting married, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto made a slight face at that, still just a moment too long. There were some stones in the river of their lives that were still in the process of being worn down. This one had grown smaller over the years. It no longer led to fights, but it wasn’t completely gone yet. Not quite.

But they were getting there.

They flowed around it since all the words had been said. Instead of speaking Bokuto kissed him, gentle and sweet. It was, as always, enough.

“Stockings first, I think,” Bokuto said when he pulled back.

Akaashi nodded. His erection wasn’t completely gone. Having Bokuto put on his stockings was sexy enough that he didn’t really want to be constrained by underwear - plus it was so much easier to remove panties if they were put on after the stockings were strapped to the garter belt.

At least, if you wanted to keep the stockings on.

It didn’t take long for Bokuto to be back, belt in one hand and stockings in the other. Arching his back Akaashi let Bokuto slide the belt around his waist, pulling him up enough to fasten it by touch. They were silent for this part. They always were. It was just another way for Akaashi to give up power, letting himself be dressed by his lover like this. Bokuto, in particular, liked it because it allowed him time to be gentle. His touch was almost worshipful as he slid the silky stockings up Akaashi’s leg, smoothing fingers over the silk, tugging carefully to make sure everything was smooth and perfect. Seamless toes, because of the sandals. He hadn’t even had to say anything.

It was such a tiny thing. Tiny, but it reminded him again how well they knew each other, how Bokuto - who had barely the faintest interest in this type of clothing, to be honest - had learned for him what was needed and why. Bokuto was so very, very good at making him feel cherished.

“You’re smiling,” Bokuto murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners as he snapped the straps onto the second stocking.

Akaashi nodded. “I love you,” he said.

It was that simple.

That simple, and yet the words were rare enough coming from Akaashi’s lips that Bokuto’s eyes grew wide, a smile splitting his face. “Akaashi,” he breathed, tugging him to stand before he stopped. “Oh! Panties!”

It made Akaashi laugh. “Yes. I don’t think I’d want to go out in that dress without underwear, Bokuto-san.”

“Kuroo might like it,” Bokuto teased.

Flushing, Akaashi shrugged, watching as Bokuto picked up the chosen pair of black and red panties and slipped them on over his legs.

“There, now you’re all decked out in his colors - black and red,” Bokuto murmured, tugging the silk over Akaashi’s thankfully soft cock.

They shared a secretive smile. Both of them knew how possessive Kuroo could get when it came to that type of thing. It was most often seen in Kenma, who gravitated toward red as a matter of course, but Akaashi was by no means above using colors himself. It made Kuroo happy.

They both wanted to make Kuroo happy.

Allowing Bokuto to tug him to standing, Akaashi kissed him again, a gentle and slow, trying to ignore the invasive thought that reminded him the fingers curled around his back had recently been opening up his ass. Time enough for that later. Now it was time for him to relax and allow Bokuto to help him into the dress, turning him towards the long mirror on the back of the door.

“You look perfect, Akaashi,” Bokuto breathed.

Not perfect. Not quite yet. His hair needed touching up, and he had yet to put on his makeup. The heels would transform the line of his legs, too. But still.

Bokuto would say he always looked perfect.

For all Akaashi knew, Bokuto was right.

So, instead of protesting, he just leaned back and let Bokuto hug him, filing the image of their reflections away in his memory banks, letting it take its place beside a thousand other memories.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he murmured.

Bokuto just nodded and smiled.


End file.
